


Faded From the Winter

by CannibalKats



Series: Catalyst [6]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Delusions, M/M, Past Abuse, Self-Harm, mental health, recovery fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-28 13:09:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12607360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: Things have been going pretty well for Saeran Choi, he has a nice condo with his long time boyfriend Yoosung, he's in his last year of school, even volunteering with kids in his spare time.  Everything has been going so well that he's not even surprised when everything starts to go wrong again.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to finish Little Talks before I started posting this but I've changed my mind. This is in my Catalyst AU, 4ish years later. It's going to focus on Saeran having a small breakdown when his meds stop working. It will reference events from V route.

This is bad, Saeran can tell it’s bad because Saeyoung invited them to lunch at his home.  He can tell it’s bad because Saeyoung’s house is  _ clean _ .  He can tell it’s bad because Yoosung held his hand the whole way here, because Yoosung babbled nervously all morning and jumped when the phone rang, because Yoosung has been silent since he hung up the phone.

He thought he’d had it under control.  He wasn’t an idiot, he knew things were getting bad again.  He’d been taking his meds, he thought he was taking his meds, but maybe?  No Yoosung had picked up his refills the week before.  Still the delusions were getting worse and there was the time lapses, his memory was shit and he’d been calling out on his TA duties.

If he’s honest with himself he should have made an appointment with Rhee two weeks ago but he’d been trying to make a point to himself.  He could deal with this until his usual appointment at the end of the month.  The way his brother looks at him, the way Jumin, and V and Ayame all smile at him in that forced way, the way Yoosung squeezes his hand, strokes his wrist with his thumb.  He was wrong.

“Saeran,” Saeyoung starts and he doesn’t miss the shadow in the hall, the whimper from his old room.

He pulls his hand out of Yoosung’s makes a point not to look anywhere but his brother’s golden eyes, he picks at his cuticles, wishes he’d worn a sweater with a hood. “I know.”

“Do you?” Saeyoung says softly, “Because you’re not doing anything about it.”

“How the fuck would you know?” He snaps, dropping his eyes to his hands as Yoosung forces his fingers between Saeran’s.

“Y-you haven’t been taking your meds,” Yoosung says softly with a gentle squeeze of his hand.

“No,” he shakes his head, still not looking up, not ready to see the figure standing behind his brother, “n-no, I’m still taking them, you refilled my scripts right?”

“I did,” Yoosung says, he pulls Saeran closer to him, tries to make him look at him, “but I found the pills you didn’t take, t-they were in the vase in the kitchen.”

Saeran shakes his head again, “I, I don’t remember that,” he whispers.  He wants to squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn’t see the torn jeans and worn out boots standing just to the left of wherever he looks.  Wants to cover his ears when the rasping laughter starts, but everyone is looking at him and he still has his pride.

“Saeran,” Ayame says, her voice isn’t soft like everyone else, just her usual tone, casual, unaffected, “what do  _ you _ want to do?”

He can practically feel the heads turn on her, he can feel the air shift as the four other people in the room start mouthing reprimands at her.  He’s thankful really, the thought that he might have some control grounds him and he can’t help but look up.

There he is, the other him, the delusion.   _ Unknown _ , the monster under the bed, the ghost he’d been before.  Before them, before Saeyoung, and Jumin and Yoosung, before school and Ayame.  He’s smiling, that sharp toothed grin that makes Saeran’s heart pound.  He tries to focus on the question, on what he wants but Unknown’s feral eyes focus on Yoosung and he licks his lips, smirks at Saeran.

“I don’t know,” Saeran mumbles.  Aware that he’s staring at nothing, aware that he’s watching nothing cross the room to his brother who turns from Ayame back to him.

“We can discuss options,” Saeyoung says, eyebrows knitting together like he’s not really sure there are options, “but you have to talk to us.”

Saeran glances at Yoosung and he shrugs, his big lavender eyes sad and Saeran notices the pockets of his  jeans don’t bulge with the overfilled keychain, which means he’s taken the day off.  The entire day for whatever this was.  That’s a big deal, the clinic is understaffed, Yoosung goes in on his days off just to help out.

“I don’t want to go back to the hospital, or the rehab or wherever,” Saeran says quickly.  “I, I admit I let it get  _ bad _ b-but, I don’t fucking want that.”

“We can try to avoid that,” Jumin speaks up.

“I, I’ll make a fucking appointment with Rhee, Yoosung can make sure I take my meds.  It’s fine I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re not  _ fine _ ,” Yoosung says, squeezing his hand again.

_ They know _ , Unknown croaks from behind his brother.

He tries to stop his eyes from darting up to focus on nothing.

“How long have you been losing time,” V asks.

“You have to come to my classes,” Ayame says at the same time.

“I don’t,” he stops. “I don’t know, is that a good idea, what if-”

“What if something happens when you’re alone?” She says, her voice dropping, and suddenly it hits him.  Even Ayame is worried.  

“How,” he stammers, Unknown leans over his brother’s shoulder, and the sobbing from his old bedroom gets louder.  His brother is looking at something, building up to it, not wanting to ask him, but he has to.  “Saeyoung what the fuck are you looking at?”

His brother’s eyes go wide for a moment before his usual mask replaces it.

“Who are you hacking for?” Saeyoung asks, his face is blank but he can’t meet his eye.

Saeran can see the delusion pull at his brother’s hair, if he tried hard enough he could see the illusion of his brother’s head yanked back overlapping the reality of him leaning forward to rest his head in his hands but it’s hard and there’s too much happening at the sobbing in his bedroom is getting louder.

“H-hacking,” he repeats. “I don’t, I-”

How long have you been losing time?” V repeats.

_ They know _ , Unknown says again.   _  If I hurt them are they really hurt _ , he passes behind Ayame, runs a hand up her side, digs a nail into her bare shoulder.  _ Is it me who hurts them or is it you? _ He sneers.

“I, I don’t, I need,” Saeran stands, he feels tight, the familiar panic rising, he tries to take a deep breath but all he can do is stumble towards the sound of the sobbing. “I need a minute, just give me a fucking minute.”

He knows he’s making a scene, more of a scene then just letting the panic attack happen but he feels that old urge to hide, to keep it to himself, lock it away.  He slams the door behind him, vaguely aware that this isn’t a bedroom anymore, that his brother has turned his room into storage.  His old bed isn’t here anymore, his guitar stand is in the condo where he lives with his boyfriend, his drawing table, his computer, it’s all in his home.  

He presses his back to the door, presses his palms to his eyes and lets himself slide down to rest on his heels, he tries to focus on his breathing.  It’s not as though he’s ever been really free from this part, from panic attacks.  A movie scene that strikes a chord, sometimes a car backfiring, or a phrase he’d thought he’d forgotten.  

Saeran was used to the burning in his lungs, the tightness in his chest, that sinking, drowning feeling. He’s not used to the little red haired boy in the corner.  Not used to the sound of a child sobbing over his own ragged breathing.  The little beaten boy with the sunken eyes and the swollen, chapped lips.  He’s thin, not just the too thin of a neglected child, there’s something exaggerated about him, something not right, too much skin hanging off bones.

The doorknob turns and Saeran scrambles away from it, into the corner with the boy he used to be.  He expects Yoosung or Saeyoung but it’s Jumin on the other side, squinting into the dark room.  He’s relieved almost, his brother knew all the right things to say and Yoosung knew how to hold him and when to let him go.  But Jumin never looked at him with pity.  Concern, care, but never sad, never sorry.

Jumin was blunt truths, reasonable solutions and simple grounding words.  

Dark grey eyes take him in, they glance to the empty space where Saeran focuses on the scared little boy. Saeran tears his eyes away to look at the man he considers something like a father.  Jumin’s eyebrows are knit together, his lips are pursed.

“Exactly how long did you think you could hide this?” He asks.  There’s nothing accusatory to the words as Jumin kneels in front of him.

“I wasn’t fucking hiding anything,” Saeran mumbles, “I just didn’t want to talk about it.”

Jumin nods, considering.  He reaches out a hand and sets it gently on Saeran’s shoulder, waiting for the smaller man to push him away or tell him to  _ fuck off _ .  Saeran accepts the contact, accepts the invitation, he leans forward on his toes and presses his forehead into Jumin’s shoulder, feels Jumin’s arms slip around his back, the precisely calculated amount of pressure that Saeran needs to ground himself.

Jumin gives him a moment to adjust, to try to get his breathing controlled again and Saeran can feel the way he holds his breath, the shallow breaths Jumin takes as if the words he’s waiting to say are trapped in his lungs.

They’ve done this before, when Saeran was recovering he’d stayed with Jumin and the older man had taken it upon himself to do what he could to help when he came home to Saeran in the middle of an episode.  Had even learned to see them coming and would work from home so that he could be there to help.

“How long were you not thinking about it?” Jumin asks after a few minutes go by.

Saeran shrugs, “Longer than I thought I guess.”

“I understand the desire to keep these things to yourself,” Jumin says, “but you know better.”

“I didn’t realize it was this bad,” Saeran breathes and the boy beside them wails. He cringes and Jumin’s arms shift.

“You didn’t realize,” Jumin says slowly.

“I thought I was taking my pills,” he mumbles, “I remember doing it sometimes, and they were gone when I didn’t so I just, I thought I had it under control, I thought I could get through the month and deal with it myself.”

“You don’t have to do this yourself,” Jumin reminds him, and the obviousness of his tone makes Saeran laugh.

“I fucking wanted to, it’s four fucking years.”

“This is not making your own doctors appointments or remembering to make your bed, Saeran, you have an illness, not a responsibility.”

Saeran is glad it was Jumin on the other side of the door, because no one else would take this opportunity to reprimand him for being an idiot.  He appreciates the reminders that people are available, that they care, but Jumin simply talks.  He doesn’t shy from the uncomfortable answers that Saeran has, he accepts that these thing happen.

“Your having hallucinations again?”

Saeran nods, pulls himself out of Jumin’s grip.

“Could you tell me about them?” he asks, “Are they the same as before?  You’ve never said what you see and I didn’t ask before but I’m afraid I’m curious.”

Saeran snorts. “It’s just me,” he shrugs.  “Different versions of me.”

Jumin seems relieved almost.

“Did you think it would be her?” Saeran asks, the boy is just a shadow now, he feels more in control.  He can breath again, feels less muddy.  He knows it wont last.

“I thought perhaps that it would be both of them,” Jumin admits.

“They’re me but they’re  _ wrong _ ,” he clarifies, “Unknown, but sharp, monstrous.  He wants to hurt everyone, sometimes he does, sometimes it’s  _ real.” _

_ “ _ That is why you stayed with me before.”

“A lot of it was focused on Saeyoung,” Saeran nods.

“Are you concerned now, should I have a room prepared for you?”

“He doesn’t threaten Yoosung,” Saeran shrugs, “or he hasn’t yet, maybe if that changes.”

Jumin nods. “What about the other one?”

“Still me, just smaller, weaker.  Before, you know?  Still  _ wrong _ just different.”

Jumin nods again runs a hand through his hair. “Would you like to come out now?  V and Ayame have left.  I can speak with the school and have you excused while we sort this out if you like. I can have an office prepared you can work with me to maintain your routine if you’d like.  I will prepare your room regardless, speak with Yoosung you are both welcome if-”

“If I’d like,” Saeran finishes.

Jumin shrugs.

“I’ll  _ talk _ to Yoosung about it.”

Yoosung is quiet on the way home. Saeran can see the nervous energy, the doubt and self loathing and all the things that had drawn him to Yoosung in the first place creeping in. He’d talked his bubbly boyfriend into actually getting help and he can see, from the way Yoosung had snapped at him when he tried to insist on driving to the way his fingers drummed on the steering wheel at every stop light.

He hates not just seeing Yoosung like this but knowing he’s the cause.  This was why he’d been glad that he’d fallen for Jisu in those early days. Saeran broke things, he broke people it was all he was good for.  At least Yoosung hadn’t started to cry yet.

At home he watches his boyfriend baby proof their condo.  He’s not exactly sure it’s necessary, he hadn’t felt suicidal so much as out of control, but he supposed if he was losing time and doing things like hacking in that time then it was better safe than sorry.  It didn’t make it hurt any less, and Yoosung apologizing every time their eyes met didn’t help.

Zen and Saeyoung arrive later in the evening, they collect all the breakable ornaments, framed photos, vases, anything he might break and hurt himself with or hide things in, that Yoosung had packed away and move them out of the Condo.  They come back with take out, no one mentions the elephant in the room.  Yoosung gives him his meds when they leave and even though he knows he’s being awful he makes a snarky comment about checking to be sure he didn’t tongue the pill.

He immediately apologizes.  They both pretend that Yoosung didn’t cry in the bathroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> V route spoiler warning.
> 
> Trigger warning for sleep paralysis, delusions, suicide mention, self harm mention, death mention

2.

“Are you ok?” Ayame watches V carefully for the next week.  She does her very best to not mention his mood.  She knows he’s blames himself whenever Saeran has an episode and this is so much worse than a panic attack, or a crying fit.  

She knows he’s not exactly wrong to blame himself and she doesn’t have any platitudes to offer so she goes home each night to the pregnant silence of their Penthouse.  She sits on the balcony and paints the cliffs and tries to wait for him to talk about it himself.  Tries not to force words out of him when he leaves bed in the middle of the night and doesn’t come back.  Tries not to make a face when he skips meals in favor of a glass of wine.

She comes home and she tells him when Saeran came to class and when he stayed after to paint or help her with some little task.  She tells him if he was talkative at lunch.  V doesn’t do much more than nod. 

There’s something about the lines of the cliffs, the way they reflect on the water that she can’t stop trying to capture.  They spread so far, she’s done 15 paintings since she moved in and still hadn’t covered the entirety of them.

It’s five days later when V approaches her on the balcony.  She loves him in the late afternoon sun.  The way his hair catches the light, the contrast of the mint against the purples and oranges of the setting sun. She slips her phone out her pocket to take a picture while he stares out over the cliffs.  He catches her checking the photo when he turns to look at her.

“You could use my camera if you’d like,” he says and she could cry for the small smile that plays on his lips as he steps towards her.  

“You know I would just use the auto focus and you would scold me and we’d waste a whole evening with you trying to teach me how aperture and shutter speeds work even though we both know I’m going to use auto focus every time I use your camera.”

He chuckles and takes her phone to look. “It’s actually nice.’

“Oh gee,” she snorts, “thank you professor Kim, I’ll try to do better in the future.” He looks through her, the smile on his face turning to something forced, frozen there like he’s afraid to let it drop and when he turns back to the view she can’t help herself any longer. “Are you ok?”

“I am,” he says, his voice small.

“Don’t lie to me Jihyun,” she snaps.

His shoulders fall and she watches him curl in on himself. “I suppose I’m pretty transparent,” he sighs.

“You promised me you wouldn’t lie, right?” She wraps her arms around him and remembers the first night she’d come here.  She hadn’t even known how far the balcony stretched, hadn’t known this side of his condo existed.  They’d slept on a futon pad under the stars, he’d had a panic attack and they’d gotten in a fight on the way to Jumin’s.

“It’s not  _ important _ ,” he says, stiff in her arms, “Saeran is struggling, my  _ guilt _ is not important.”

“Is it only guilt?” She asks letting him be for a moment.  She gathers a blanket from the bench in the corner and watches him card fingers through his long hair.  He’s not wearing his glasses, hasn’t been much at all lately she realizes, thinking of the little contact packages she’s thrown in the bathroom trash every afternoon when she’d gotten home.

“It’s not important,” he says again with a shrug and leans on the wall.

She turns him away from the view and forces him to look at her before she rolls her eyes and tugs the blanket around his shoulders.  It’s not exactly cold out but she uses the blanket to tug him closer, pulls it tight around the two of them and feels his arms move around her waist as she hugs him tight, her own arms around his chest. “You’re allowed to have feelings Jihyun.”

“That doesn’t,” he starts but she pinches him.

“Just because you’re culpable in what happened doesn’t mean you were unaffected,” she snaps.

“I don’t-”

“Jihyun, you fucked up and maybe you could have prevented it but maybe not, the bones of Saeran’s illness were there, what’s affecting him right now isn’t the result of anything you did.” She sighs.

“It may not be but the fact remains we exacerbated the situation,” he presses his face into her hair as he speaks.

“I don’t disagree, but you still get to have feelings, you can still be upset, it’s valid you don’t have to hide it,” she traces lines in his back, hearts and stars and words like  _ love _ and  _ trust _ .  “It took you time to earn everyone’s trust back,” she says softly, “and I understand you wanting to appear in control at school and in front of your friends.  I  _ respect _ that you don’t want to draw attention from Saeran right now but please, at least talk to  _ me _ .”

There’s a puff of breath across her scalp and she feels him relax, arms still tight around her waist.  He leans back against the railing and she lets the blanket loosen and looks up at him.  His eyes far away as he watches the setting sun. “Right there is where I found her things.” He says softly.

She follows his eyes to the edge of the cliffs 10 stories below them.  She can tell exactly where he’s looking, and she’s seen the way he avoids looking at the spot when they walk along the cliffs.

“There,” he points now, to a break in the railing, she’s seen teenagers sneaking through it, she knows there is a narrow path down the cliffs the small stony beach below, a small path he’s begged her not to explore, “is where I told the police that she threw herself into the water.”

“Jihyun,” she breaths his name and he drops his hand hugging her tighter.

“I lied and said I saw her do it,” he whispers.

She’d known that he’d lied about Rika’s death but he’d never told her the details.  She hadn’t asked.  It was almost three years since the cult had resurfaced and threatened them all and she hadn’t wanted to know more than anyone wanted to tell her.  Saeran had endured that week remarkably well, resisted everything they’d thrown at him but now with what his brother had found?

Ayame knew everyone was worried.

“You know they forgave you for that,” she says.

“They shouldn’t,” he says so softly she almost misses it over the sounds of crashing waves and rising tide. 

“It looks like there’s a storm coming,” she sighs.

3

He knows it’s too soon, he knows the reason this all started was that he needs to adjust his meds, try a different dose or something new, he knows it’s just a respite from the inevitable  _ but _ he feels  _ better _ .  He’s gone to all his classes, he’s eating better, doing his job.  His emotions are not exactly stable but he feels in control.  

It’s only been a few days but it feels like acknowledging the problem, letting them take some of the burden, that had helped.  

It had helped, he had felt better for a few days and Yoosung had agreed to see his own therapist again. Even made an appointment while Saeran spoke with Doctor Rhee.  Saeran lays in bed, feels Yoosung wrapped around him and he feels at peace until very suddenly he doesn’t.

Until very suddenly he feels something familiar. He’s not sure exactly what it is, or why he thinks of it but he’s almost certain he’s wrong.  It’s  _ not _ Yoosung wrapped around him. It might be, in this moment he’s not sure, conflicted. He can see the monster in the corner sneering at him, and he feels, uneasy.

It has to be Yoosung.

It can’t be.  Why would he have that purple eyed boy in his bed?

He’s not sure where he is.

_ Did she take it _ , the monster asks him.

It’s not Yoosung.  He struggles but he can’t move, can barely breath, his voice won’t work and the monster smirks.

_ Took yours, I know you did, you always do but did she? _

_ Fuck _ , Saeran can’t remember, it was a dream right, the dream about the boy again.  But there was no boy, he was just an idea.  A dream he didn’t need any more.  There was only her.  He’d brought her here, he’d kept her here, and she’d been nice to him.   _ Nice _ to  _ him _ .  Not the way Savior was nice, not the hot and cold whiplash of Savior’s love just pure.  Not even the sharp way the Peach was nice, no motives, just genuine soft care.

She was innocent and pure and soft and she wanted him.  They would leave this place together.  Savior had promised. 

He can’t move, he can’t check.  Something is  _ wrong _ and the monster is laughing.  His eyes are wide and dry and his throat is hoarse with the screams that try as he might he can’t form and everything is too fast and too slow all at once.

_ She’s dead _ , the monster smiles, _ you don’t have to let her go, she can’t look at you like that anymore.  Can’t betray you because she’s dead, and you killed her.   _

He wants to argue.   _ That’s not what happened _ , he tries to yell but he can’t.  He tries to thrash but he can’t.

_ He  _ hadn’t killed her.  

He hadn’t.

_ Might as well have _ , the monster leans over him, tugs at the body on top of him and the head lolls back, dark hair and unblinking orange eyes stare through him.

Everything happens at once.  He screams, scrambling up and away and pressing himself against the headboards, shoving at the body on top of him.  It tumbles away, off the bed with a thump and a groan and he tries to cover his mouth, tries to stop himself from screaming but he can’t. Instead he shoves his fist in his mouth.

It’s all he can think of, biting down to muffle the sound of his own voice as tears stream down his face.

Someone is speaking, someone is saying his name but he can’t look, can’t open his eyes can’t stop the sound, can’t stop anything.

4

“I-I don’t know!” Yoosung yells.  “He stopped screaming a bit ago b-but he won’t talk to me.”

Jumin frowns and shuts the door behind himself. “Will he let you near him?”

“He doesn’t push me away,” Yoosung says, fingers twitching against his thighs, “but it felt wrong to try to, I don’t know touch him?  He hasn’t,  _ I don’t know _ .”

“It’s alright Yoosung,” Jumin says, big hand on his shoulder.  

Yoosung hadn’t wanted to call Saeyoung and worry him and he didn’t think he could look at V right now, there wasn’t anything Jaehee could do except maybe call Kit, and he didn’t think Saeran would want Zen to see him like this.  So Yoosung called the only person he could.  He called Jumin.  Jumin who had a strange kind of bond with Searan, who’d experienced his episodes during the worst times.

He’d explained the morning, explained that Saeran had been doing  _ better _ .  He explained being shoved out of bed.  Jumin could hear the screaming but he explained it anyway, and Jumin had come right over.  Yoosung had been so worried when he opened the door he hadn’t even noticed the cat carrier in Jumin’s hand until he set it down.

“Y-you brought Elizabeth,” he manages, now that someone else is here he feels weak, his voice feels hoarse even though he hadn’t been the one shouting.

“She seemed to help,” Jumin says, “you should make some tea, Yoosung. His throat will be sore.”

“I will in a minute,” Yoosung swallows and follows Jumin, now carrying his cat in his arms.

Jumin sets Elizabeth carefully on the foot of the bed.  Saeran is in the corner, sitting cross legged and chewing on his fingers, there are marks on his forearms where he must have dug his nails in at some point, the knuckles of one hand are crusted from where his teeth had drawn blood.  Jumin clucks his tongue and Saeran’s wide eyes flick towards him.

“Look at what you’ve done to yourself,” he sighs and Yoosung watches proper Jumin Han, who had obviously been dressed for the office, roll up his shirt sleeves and climb onto their bed to sit next to Saeran.

Saeran doesn’t say anything, he just watches Jumin, eyes flitting between the CEO and the cat on their bed. 

“Yoosung is going to make you tea,” Jumin says, “do you think you could eat something?”

Saeran shakes his head slowly, he stops picking at his fingers when Elizabeth climbs into his lap.Yoosung watches Jumin hold out an arm and Saeran shimmy closer, relaxing against him.  Jumin runs one hand through messy hair and pats Saeran’s back.

Yoosung leans against the doorframe.  He knew what to do when Saeran had a panic attack, he knew what to do if something triggered him and he shut down, he knew how to handle crying, he knew how to handle his desire to self harm and how to redirect nervous energy.  But this was not what he knew.  

He wasn’t even sure Saeran was there when he’d pulled himself off the floor.  He  _ knew _ Saeran hadn’t recognized him.

“Yoosung do you have a first aid kit?” Jumin asks softly.

Yoosung nods. 

“Could you fetch it for me?”

“Yes, I’ll put the kettle on.”

“Did you see her again,” Jumin is asking as Yoosung steps out of the room.

Saeran shrugs.

“I’m going to call Jihyun,” Jumin says sharply.

“You fucking won’t,” Saeran rasps, he takes Jumin’s wrists weakly in his hands and the larger man freezes.

“So you are there.”

“I guess.”

“Will you answer me.”

“I didn’t see  _ her _ just her corpse,” Saeran swallows.  His voice is hoarse from screaming.

“You’re taking your medication, and speaking with your doctor?” Jumin asks and when Saeran nods he continues “You’re certain?”

“Yoosung keeps my meds with him, he gives them to me himself and then we sit together so that he’s sure I haven’t spit them out.” He clears his throat, “I thought I was coming around, I thought I was done reliving that bullshit, fuck i dealt with it in rehab.”

“When things came to a head what exactly did you think was going to happen in her stead?” Jumin asks, hands carding through his hair.

“I thought maybe if things got this bad it would be Mother, maybe.”

“Nothing is ever simple, considering everything that happened a few months ago I am not exactly surprised,” Jumin shrugs.

“Thought I was done with Ray,” Saeran groans. “Guess that was fucking stupid.”

“Not stupid, just hopeful,” Jumin smiles.

“Who’s Ray?” Yoosung asks, a soup bowl sized mug of tea in his hands.  He tries not to notice the way Saeran tenses when he sees him there.

“It should be relieving,” Jumin starts, “that Yoosung is unfamiliar with Ray.”

“Sh-should I know him?  Was he a cultist?” He hands Saeran the mug and lets out a relieved sigh when he takes it without hesitation, “Is he one of the o-ones that got away?”

Saeran snorts and takes a sip of the tea, “Sort of.”  Saeran blows on his tea, hands shaking as he pulls himself out of Jumin’s arms.  He takes a few deep breaths and buries one hand in Elizabeth’s soft fur, eyes firmly latched on the liquid in his mug. “I’m Ray, I was Ray, for a while.”

“Like,” Yoosung climbs onto the bed with Jumin and Saeran, he sits on the edge, not want to intrude or make anything worse. “Like your brother was Luciel?”

Saeran shakes his head.  It shouldn’t be difficult to tell Yoosung anything.  He was intimately aware of all of Saeran’s diagnosis, his triggers, his nifty quirks. But Ray was different, a struggle he thought he was beyond.  He wonders if anyone exists now beyond Jisu, Jumin and Jihyun who who knew Ray existed at all. 

Ray had died with the girl. All the useful parts of him had been gifted like a heirlooms to Unknown.

Besides Ray, he hated when he had to tell Yoosung anything about Rika.  His boyfriend was stubborn.  His jaw will set, his eyes will water, his fists will clench and when the conversation is done Yoosung will excuse himself and sob in the bathroom.  Each revelation hits him like he’s being told she’s died for real.  Saeran does not enjoy it.

“Savior,” he says, emphasizing that it wasn’t really the person Yoosung had idolized who did the bad things.  He tries to keep Yoosung’s positive memories intact whenever possible, “she, when Jisu went to school and Magenta was empty she experimented on ways to use me and Ray was part of that.”

“So he was what?”

“She split me into pieces,” he shrugs. “You met Unknown, that was part of that.”

“I don’t-”

“When it started there was Ray and Saeran and Unknown.  Saeran was weak, and unpredictable and she used the elixir and sweets and  _ stuff _ to train my behaviors.  Ray was  _ good _ , I guess.  He was a kind me, all the good parts of Saeran that made people trust me.  If I was  _ weak _ , I didn’t get my dose, if I was  _ good _ , I did.  Unknown was an outlet for my rage, I couldn’t really recruit like that, but those bits were useful too I guess.  Savior knew how to draw out who she needed.”  He scratches his scalp, therapy had been good for something, at least he had the words to explain it all now.

“You had other personalities?”

“Only because she taught me to,” he tries to clarify. “You knew that though didn’t you?”

“I knew she brainwashed you into being Unknown,” Yoosung nods.

“Ray wasn’t really good though,” Jumin says, pushing Saeran to explain further.

He nods and takes a deep drink from his mug. “Yoosung if, if there’s worse days and you  _ meet _ Ray, you need to leave and get Jumin or Jihyun.” He glances at Jumin who gives him a disapproving look. “Ray is, he’s dangerous in a different way from Unknown, I uh, I trust you can handle Unknown but I don’t feel comfortable, if I fall into those behaviors, having you here with me.”

Jumin puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to call your brother.” He says clearly, “And Dr. Rhee.  When Saeyoung arrives Yoosung and I are going to go out for lunch and I’m going to tell him what I know about Ray.  I think you should talk with Jihyun if you’re still upset about her.”

“It’s fine,” Saeran shakes his head.

“It absolutely is not, but I respect that you’re uncomfortable.  Have Saeyoung help you pack some things to bring to the penthouse, we’ll meet you there.”


	3. Chapter 3

5

“How bad is it?” Saeyoung is pulling clothing out of the dresser and holding it out for Saeran to approve.  There’s already a suitcase full of paint brushes and easels, charcoal, Sketchbooks, and pallets, pastels and everything he would use at school that he couldn’t hurt himself with.  Watercolours not oils with their poisons and pointy bits. Yarn with dull plastic needles rather than the nice titanium set he prefered.

“I’m not the person to fucking ask,” Saeran mutters, tugging the blanket Yoosung had wrapped around him tighter and holding the now cold mug of half drank tea in his hands.

“Well I know what Jumin and Yoosung think,” Saeyoung shrugs hauling a guitar case out from under the bed, “but I wanna know what you think.”

“I think I’m fucked,” he groans shaking his head, “I want the acoustic.”

“Too bad,” Saeyoung shakes his head, “don’t know much about music but Kit said the strings on the electric will take longer to hurt your fingers.”

Saeran whines and pulls the blanket over his head like a cloak.  Saeyoung smiles at him, a sad pathetic curling of lips as he takes the cold mug from his hands.

“Right now,” Saeyoung starts and Saeran can see his brother’s desire to touch people being physically restrained. He can see the way Saeyoung fights pulling him into a bear hug. “Forget this morning, forget everything else.  Right this minute, how bad is it?”

“It’s,” Saeran considers, “it’s been worse.”

Saeyoung shoves him and snorts, “that’s not an answer.”

“Fuck off,” Saeran groans. “I’m uncomfortable, overwhelmed and anxious,” he considers. “I don’t like doing this to Yoosung.”

“He knew what he signed up for,” Saeyoung says quickly. “He knows better than anyone.”

“He doesn’t know  _ this _ ,” Saeran counters.

“He doesn’t care, Saeran, there’s nothing you’ve done that’s going to scare him away.”

“I killed a girl,” Saeran snaps.  He squares his shoulders and narrows his eyes on his his brother, challenging him. “I  _ loved _ her in some fucked up twisted fucking way and I killed her and Jumin is sitting in some stupid coffee shop explaining how I’m a murderer to Yoosung over coffee and pastries.”

Saeyoung places a hand on each of his cheeks and squeezes them together. “That’s not  _ you _ ,” he says pressing his forehead against Saeran’s. “You’re not just sitting here letting yourself get worse, you’re not letting yourself be that person.”

Saeran pulls away. “I’m not letting anything happen, it just fucking does and what if it happens when no one is around.”

“Yoosung is not a child,” Saeyoung shrugs. “You are the one who wants to stay here and avoid hospitalization-”

“Don’t fucking,” Saeran digs his nails into his palms, “don’t tell me this is my fault. Don’t fucking say if something-”

“This isn’t  _ your _ fault,” Saeyoung says through clenched teeth, he takes his brother’s hands and pries them apart. “I’m not blaming you I’m just saying if you’re worried about hurting Yoosung there are things you can do.”

Saeran pulls his hands away from his brother but sets them, palms flat, on his legs where his brother can see.

“I don’t think it’s Yoosung getting hurt that you’re worried about.”

6

“I don’t understand.”

Yoosung’s roots are showing, Jumin notices as the man in front of him pushes his hair out of his face.  Saeran’s hadn’t been, suggesting Yoosung had still maintained his partner's hair over his own despite the fact that he deals with people regularly for his work.  He frowns and files this away.  There is a salon in the building his Penthouse is in.  If Yoosung will not take the time Jumin will have someone come up.

“Jumin, what do you mean he  _ thinks _ he killed someone?”

He wraps his hands around the warm mug of tea and tries to clear the clutter in his mind.  This wasn’t his story to tell so he would only tell so much of it.  He knows from experience that Saeran will always blame himself for the death of the girl, just as Jihyun will also blame himself.  He knows the reality of the situation is that her death is on Rika’s hands.

He also knows that Jihyun would be the better person to explain but neither he nor Yoosung are in a place to speak to one another about this.  No matter how much time has passed, no matter how close the three of them appear it takes very little to rend them.  Closely knit together with scar tissue as they are.

“A woman died,” Jumin says. “He believes it was his fault.  It’s an oversimplification.”

“Who killed her?”

“Mint Eye.”

Yoosung’s mug sits heavy on the table between them, “You mean Rika.”

“If I were to place the blame on a specific person yes, I would blame her.  She developed the drug the cult used, she provided the dose the girl was given.” Jumin nods, palms flat on the table watching the way Yoosung struggled to steel his face.

“Ray,” Yoosung says, focusing on anything but his cousin.

Jumin nods.  “If I understand what both Saeran and V have told me, the early recruitment techniques employed by Mint Eye were much  _ softer _ than the later. Rika fostered the Ray persona as a non-threatening recruiter.  Saeran has told me the way he coloured his hair was a point of contention, Unknown had done it and he had been punished.”

Yoosung swallows. “She wanted him to stand out  _ less _ ,” he nods, “Saeran told me that once.”

Jumin nods. “He would put out advertisements on Graigslist, lure people in and treat them to falsehoods until they could give them the drug.”

“The Elixir,” Yoosung frowns, Jumin supposes he remembers the brief time he spent inside the castle, Unknown must have mentioned the drug, perhaps threatened him with it.

“Yes I suppose that’s what she called it.  There was an advertisement he posted for someone to test a video game in seclusion.  An  _ Otome _ game if I recall the phrase correctly.  Saeran has told me that she would have been eventually given access to our messenger had the plan gone appropriately.”

It had been a precursor to the plan that had sent Jisu to them.  She would have played a game Saeran had developed with characters based on the real RFA members. Then when she completed this game and had begun taking doses of the drugs she would have been given a  _ new _ version that would have been the actual application. So she could interact with all of them under the belief that they were simply computer programs.

“What happened,” Yoosung asks, his voice low his eyes dull.  Jumin can understand why Saeran would not want to have to tell him these things.  Especially not with how it had gone so wrong.

“They fell in love,” Jumin says carefully.

“Oh,” Yoosung says, his voice very small, his shoulders hunch.  Yoosung was almost as tall as Jumin now but like this he could still be the small man he was 4 years ago when he’d gone to the castle with Saeyoung.

Jumin shifts in his seat. “It was not,” he tries to find a way to put it, “it wasn’t what you have with him,” he settles on.  “Ray was possessive, and desperate and dangerous. Please understand that the things I know are things he told me during the worst parts of his recovery, largely things shouted during episodes where he had trouble determining reality from his delusions.  Combined with things V has told me during his own recovery.”

Yoosung nods. “Is there any,” he shrugs and grits his teeth, “is there any documentation for this girl that died or is it possible-”

“Yes, there were reports of her missing, her body was recovered with a number of others when the castle was raided.”

“Oh.”

“Yoosung he doesn’t want to tell you about this because he thinks Ray killed her but there is more to it than that.  You are aware of how devoted he was to Savior as Unknown.  It is my understanding that Ray was worse in some ways.”

“Worse?” Yoosung whispers.

“Savior fostered a dependence with Ray.  She was the only one who was kind to him, I assume to control him.

“This girl was very kind to him,” Jumin continues, trying to avoid unnecessary facts. “She understood something was  _ wrong _ in the castle.  From what I understand she attempted to prolong the time before she would be given her first dose and  _ Ray _ was manic attempting to appease both her and Rika.  

“It was early on, V was still not exactly involved with the cult, he’d only just been brought in, only  _ just discovered  _ that she was alive.  He tried to help this girl.”

“And Rika killed her.”

“ _ That _ is what  _ I _ believe.”

“How?”

“I do not have any specifics beyond two men’s disjointed tales,” Jumin offers. “I believe she was purposely overdosed, though Saeran suggest some people simply could not  _ handle  _ the drug.  It was fentanyl based easily overdosed on.  I think she likely had unstable strains purposely distilled.

“The woman tried to convince  _ Ray _ to leave, Saeran himself seems unsure what his plan had been. He wavered when he spoke about it between wanting to follow this woman he was obsessed with and wanting to please savior.  He’s told me that they were caught trying to escape but he’d also told me that he’d taken her to Savior himself.”

“What does V say?” Yoosung sips at cold coffee without flinching.

“He has not been able to clarify, he claims that he was following them, that he had intended to get the woman out.  He says that Rika’s enforcers collected them in a hallway that lead both to the Sanctuary where Rika lived and the Garden where they may have made an attempt to escape.

“Rika kept the woman with her for a week or more.  V has told me in that time Saeran was Unknown more often than he was Ray, that he was Saeran on occasion, which I understand to have been a rare occurrence.  V believes that the woman was dosed without her knowledge during this time.  She was allowed to speak with Ray, or Unknown or whoever he was at the time.”

Jumin had also been told that Rika had attempted to become  _ close _ to this woman, V had been unsure if it was an act to hurt either of the men she had affected or genuine intrest.  Rika had been more complicated in the early days, before she began to dose herself.

“Jumin,” Yoosung groans, he crumples a napkin in his hand.

“It is my understanding,” Jumin starts carefully, “that a deal was made with the woman.  V says she agreed to undergo the indoctrination ceremony publically, rather than the private ceremony Ray had requested.  In return  _ Savior _ told her that should she still wish to leave afterwards she could.  That she could even take either Ray or V with her  _ if _ they were willing.”

“She didn’t survive the-the whatever, the Ceremony.”

Jumin shakes his head.  “I will spare you the details.  Suffice to say it was not  _ unusual  _  for people to die in this way, reports suggest that Rika would declare the dead unworthy of paradise.”

“B-but  _ Saeran _ didn’t  _ kill _ her, he didn’t even give her the Elixer,” Yoosung growls.

“At first,” Jumin says, realizing he likely is not supposed to have information from Saeran’s therapy, “I am told he believed it was his fault because she  _ told _ him it was.  He had put additives in the elixer to be given to the woman.  To improve the taste or smell I am unsure, I only know that she put the idea in his head that those things were what caused the reaction.”

“But then?”

“He had told Savior that he would leave with the woman if she asked.  He believes he killed her indirectly.  That Savior caused the overdose to keep him there.”

“And V?”

“She told him it was his fault for interfering.  That had he not planted the seeds of doubt in the woman’s mind she wouldn’t have been unworthy.  That her faith would have saved her.”  Jumin is quiet for a moment before he speaks again, “He believes at least that his interferance was what cause  _ Savior _ to have her killed.  Have you seen V’s arms since his recovery.”

“I uh,” Yoosung swallows and Jumin can tell by the way his eyes flit about that he has seen the scars the mar the other man’s arms.

“He does not remember the direct cause of most of them, what he’d done to incur most of his punishments. There is large burn on the inside of his arm however he remembers distinctly. It was his punishment for his part in her death.  He said he was certain Ray would kill him in that moment, and that Rika would have let him die.”

Yoosung is quiet, he stares into his cup and Jumin can’t tell if he’s processing this information or contemplating being ill.  Jumin feels unwell himself.  He prides himself on maintaining emotional distance from most situations but this all felt very personal.  Not only because of how close he’d been to both Rika and V but Jumin found himself feeling oddly protective of Saeran.

It had grown, initially he’d only wanted to understand this boy causing so many people so much pain.  He thought, when he’d begun visiting him during his hospitalization, that he simply wanted to judge Saeran for himself.  Then he’d thought to help him.  After he’d attacked Saeyoung Jumin had offered his guest room and they’d grown closer.

Jumin told himself that at first it was V’s absence the loss of trust and this brutally honest young man filled that void.  Soon he found that he cared for him, felt almost responsible for him. He had once even found himself standing toe to toe with Saeyoung shouting and later nursing a black eye from the smaller man. 

Saeran being unwell again, the effect that was having on V, Jumin felt helpless all over again.  Not only that but it felt as though he had failed somehow.  He had seen that mirrored in Yoosung’s face that day at Saeyoung’s.

“How many times has Saeran tried to kill V?” Yoosung asks, he swallows and presses his lips together.

Jumin shrugs.  It had never occurred to him to ask.  They both knew Rika had pit Saeran against V early on.  That Saeran had often been in charge of V and oversaw whatever punishments the older man had been victim to.  Everyone knew that when V had gone in to get Yoosung out with Jumin’s men that Saeran had shot him.

Jumin had never wondered how many times Saeran had brought V near death, he suspected it was more than the twice.

“You’ll be staying with me until things are, at least, more predictable.  I assume you’re alright with that?” Jumin changes the subject.

It’s Yoosung’s turn to shrug. “I guess, I mean unless it makes things worse.”

“Yoosung, things may get worse for him before they get better, you understand that, yes?”

Yoosung glances away, he sips at his cold coffee and doesn’t answer.


End file.
